Relief and Release
by daedricgurl
Summary: Shaka; a monk in poor condition is rescued by an unlikely friend and brought to the infinitely wise and substantially powerful Mu of the Mystics. On the brink of death, Mu works diligently to save him; hoping to heal him from his physical ailments, and those within his mind as well.
1. Chapter 1

Over one thousand kilometers west of Nepal, in the green forests which ever protect the rising mountainous shield for Tibet; wanders a young man. His hair falls as a tarnished blonde, soiled with mud, dirt and blood. His skin, once tender—now dark and burnt from when the sun had touched upon him during long months of travel. Feet bare upon sharp rocks, cracked and bloodied, swollen from the miles he had traveled—weathered by the harsh seasons around him. His chest practically naked to the elements as his kashaya robes wore down to their last threads. The rich orange they had been leached by the sun and it slid from one shoulder to hang down like an antarasavaka. Too delirious with hunger and dehydration to pull it back up, the man; Shaka walks on. Clenched in his dirty hands is a japa mala, where countless mantras were whispered from his cracked lips upon one hundred and eight beads. Eyes closed, he trudged with heavy feet, thumbing each bead to burnished amber; and it shone pure in comparison to Shaka's depraved body.

How long had it been since last he ate, since last he sipped water? Equally long had it been since he stopped wandering—since he had simply slept. But still Shaka denied this presence of necessity; for here his stomach would not be strong enough for the leaves he might reach, nor grew any nuts to pry apart. Though the further north he climbed and the colder it got—no snow touched the greenery used to such harsh climate for him to melt in his trembling hands to drink.

Shaka listened in to his surroundings; his mind expands outward in an attempt to grasp at the life that may be around him. He takes the mind of a small bird, and his material body stumbles upon a rock when he focuses on feeding weak little hatch-lings a meager regurgitated meal. And soon his consciousness flees even this small creature to a wood worm burrowed in dry bark, and his mind is overcome with the simplicity of this existence; gnawing on wood until eventually he is scooped out by the claw of some tiny mammal, and it is his death in this small creature that makes his breath flit from his concave chest and finally topple over a fallen branch. His body is so thin that his fall hardly makes a sound—his breath shallow, thin with oxygen and hardly sustaining. Lying in the dirt, decaying leaves—even then he does not open his eyes; and the thought of his own death from his extreme asceticism does not cross his mind.

From the thin scrub of forest underbrush, comes the rustling and snuffling of a large creature. Its presence had gone undetected in Shaka's extremely weak state. A tiger, brilliantly orange with its black stripes making blazing path to its creamy underbelly emerges. The tiger's movements would surely have gone undetected regardless of Shaka's awareness, the master predator that it was. There is a gleam in the tigers eyes when it's lips pull back, tasting the air around Shaka who remains prone on the ground. His face is turned towards the creature—but he makes no indication of fear.

"Is it not but the circle of life…?"

Shaka asks it, and the tiger swivels its ears in interest towards the rasping sound. Meandering slowly its way to the man whom lies in its path, the creature looms over Shaka's deteriorated body, muscled powerfully and certainly not lacking as the human was. The tiger leans down slowly, whiskers flaking off the crusted dirt along Shaka's cheek—and it's as he feels a wet, warm nose pressing into a vein in the side of his neck that he finally loses his senses completely..

_ "In the mountains there is a temple; Mu of the Mystics resides there. It is said that Mu can heal or repair anything; even a broken human like you…"_

Shaka's eyes slowly open, beholding the bright eyed tiger sitting regal on its haunches and looking down on him. Even with his blurred vision, Shaka sees the tiger's maw move as though it is speaking, and he thinks to himself that his eyes—unused to working now as they were must surely be playing tricks on him.

_"I can take you there, if you so desire."_

The tiger's voice rolls deep and gravely, leaning towards Shaka and looking into his cerulean eyes.

"Things of the material world are but insubstantial visual manifestations… Surely you are a hallucination…"

_"I am afraid not, wandering monk. Even should you close your eyes again, I still will be here." _

Though he closes his eyes anyways—it is not out of disbelief but habit as he slowly awakens back to his senses. Shaka tries to get up on arms and legs too weak and is sent crashing again into the uneven earth. A long time does Shaka lay on the ground, almost like he had given up until once more the press of a cold nose is on his shoulder. Hot air pulsing over him from the big cats muzzle as it smelled him.

_"Death hangs over you not, you cannot die here, it is not your fate." _

Shaka quakes at the deep voice washing over him, a prophesizing tiger willing to become his temporary guardian and guide of the wilderness.

_"The sun is bright here, but the further north we trek the colder it shall become. You will require my warmth and my strength, human. There is no shame in accepting aid."_

A warm nose and whiskered muzzle is nudging beneath his arm, its large head forcing itself beneath the crook of his shoulder and lifting Shaka's upper body partially off the ground. Pained breathing creaks from weak lungs at the effort. But Shaka respond to the urging, stiffening his arm around the Tiger's neck and struggling to his knees. Both arms clinging now about the tiger, his face pressed into the musty coat of the great cat—warm and filled with powerful life. The tiger rises up, and with him comes Shaka onto his shaky, blistered feet.

_"Many physical ailments you possess, but it would have been those in your heart and mind which might have brought your downfall.."_

The tiger surmises honestly to the dying human whom leaned heavily upon its shoulder and head. Its paws languidly padding step by step on the ground while Shaka dragged onwards with it. It knew there was very little time left to the fair human if the mystics help was not sought—no regular human could do anything for the monk now. But the sun was going down, their uphill battle slowing even as the light dimmed and temperatures dropped. Shaka's skin did not tighten with it—his body so defenseless and weak. Pathetic to the predator which was forced to stop their progress, lowering its massive head to allow Shaka to slide to the ground. That was where he collapsed and curled into himself. The man said nothing, but the tiger knew he was thinking of his own death; the one which the tiger would not let come about. Letting out a huffed cough, the tiger stretched out along Shaka's front, hooking a paw over the curled up man and pushing him into its hot belly. Its skin and fur covered the thin frame almost completely—masking the weak scent from the world, warming him, protecting him whilst curled around him entirely.

The tiger did not sleep while Shaka seemed dead to the world; awaking him was difficult, slow and almost painful for him to move. So still the tiger had to lick at his joints to help his blood continue to sluggishly flow and circulate so he could unfold. Shaka was a mess at this point—there was no use and trying to make him stand. The most he could do was wind his arms about the tiger's neck and be dragged along. The weakness of humans almost disgusted the creature—who took it upon itself to rescue the man (for reasons it did not entirely know either).

_"I do not know why, but you cannot die here. Just a little longer, child." _

It tried to urge him to remain awake; Shaka only moaned in reply and licked his dry lips in vain. They traveled up the mountainside—leaving all that might have been deciduous and edible for scarce and sharp conifers. The air was thin and crisp with a bone chilling breeze. It was dry up the mountain however, and any shrubbery was tough—whatever animals survived up here would be even tougher.

Around a bend in the mountain side, rocks crumbling down the peak in their wake; they came across a temple. A patch of tough grass in the clearing and thistle brushes sporadic before it. The temple was domed in many places—and the pillars were made of clean limestone. Before the steps leading up into the darkness of the palace, stood two great rams. Their horns curled thick and heavy on their heads. The tiger was forced to halt before them when they stomped up to him, shoulder to shoulder, horns lowered and steam bursting in loud huffs from their noses. Their thick wool an able armor, and their horns easily incapacitating.

The stare down lasted but a minute before a cool voice calls to the rams quietly; the sound lingers on a sweetly smelling breeze.

"Do not posture so, my friends."

An apparent man seems to step from the temple, wearing a thick cangpao, and woolen boots to fend off the chill. The sleeve usually worn long was cut, but remained just long enough for Mu to hide their other hand in it for additional warmth. The rams part a small ways and turn towards the creature with lilac hair and two regal dark dots upon their brow. Mu's lashes were thick and lowered in contemplation of the tiger.

"Why does one so great travel all this way?"

Mu asks of the tiger, and in reply it crouches to the ground and lowers his head so Shaka may collapse to the ground. This elicits no reaction from Mu, who only casts sad emerald eyes onto the beaten body.

_"I have come this way in the company of this human, Shaka; with the request that you help him."_

Mu's eyes shut in a relaxed nature, as though unconcerned.

"Tis true that I may heal those that come to me, but death cannot be undone."

_"He is not dead!" _The Tiger roars, canines bared and its nose and forehead wrinkled back in its anger.

"Perhaps not, but he is at its door. Why do you endeavor so desperately to save this human man?"

The tiger cast its golden gaze on the dying man, Shaka's senses lost and no longer exactly with them in the world. Deep in a coma as his body attempts one last time to save him by slowing down all functions in his body.

_"There are things in life he has yet to see, experience, and understand. Every human deserves that, if they must see the horrors of their created world—so surely they must see the joys of ours. He cannot die with terror in his heart, and alone. If you will not heal him, at least let him die peacefully, and in good company." _

The tigers vehemence was touching, and it made Mu wonder just what had happened to Shaka that put him in such a condition. However, Mu remains silent in thought, opening intrigued eyes and looking fully upon the man. Finally, they step with all grace towards the two and smiles at them in benevolence.

"I will do as you ask, do not be angry my friend. Your wish is selfish in all the right ways; so do not worry, I will aid him."

The tiger lets lose a deep rumble, the rolling growl from his chest a relieved sigh.

"Your journey must surely have been trying, please make yourself at home; but do not hurt my companions or you shall no longer be welcomed here."

Mu says this amicably enough while kneeling to roll the monk over onto his back. The crease in Mu's brow is telling; helping Shaka would be hard… A hand on Shaka's shallow cheeks told Mu of a rapidly falling temperature. Sliding down to touch gently upon the vital artery in his neck; Mu feels a very faint, frantic heartbeat. Letting out a soft sigh; Mu carefully enfolds Shaka in their arms—lifting him and walking smoothly up and into the temple. The gait was inhuman with how Shaka was never jostled or shifted in any way.

The entirety of the temple was rather Spartan, but for the nests of soft leaves and brush which had been gathered in mounds around pillars or in corners of the places they passed. In some of these lay slender does with soft eyes and wiggling curious noses. A Ram or two roaming the aisle of rooms or niches where the deer bedded down or cared for their yearlings. Sometimes a woolly female counterpart of the rams in their company, bleating at their own unruly young. In this shrine, Mu protected these gentle creatures from their own male counterparts and predators. The few males here were solely the rams, mated already to the few females living here and only cautious old stags were allowed in this sanctuary with permission.

Mu has a stuffed cot enshrined amongst the creatures of the forest which lived with them. Though most stayed clear of this sole possession—the room had a few bird nests tucked within corners or along shelves which lay dusted with silvery bottles, scrolls and books alike. Their songs were a constant comfort to Mu, and those which stayed in the nests were silent when their companion entered with a barely breathing human. Scarcely had Mu set him on the cot before hovering over a shoulder appeared a bubbling young child, with fiery hair and the brightest smile.

"Master Mu, we have company?" The boy asks in excitement, his loud voice does not disturb the sleeping blond so Mu says nothing.

"This particular human is very ill, Kiki." Mu tells the child, who had been drifting comfortably in the air behind Mu and staring at the man. This makes the boy wilt to the ground and crawl forward to gaze at Shaka intently.

"Will he be alright?"

Mu is watching Shaka when Kiki asks this, deep in thought about it; for Shaka was very ill of his own doing. If he had been more careful, if he had only thought about what his actions would bring..

"He is a rather pitiable child."

Mu speaks low, putting a hand on Shaka's hot forehead and pushing back his bangs.

"Well, we haven't much time Kiki; I need a few things from you." The boy was buoyant once again, his energy restored at being put to work. "First I require a bowl of hot water one of cool water, many clean cloths and a pitcher. Bring these here, to me and then begin a broth for us." For a time Mu stares down at Shaka. "Chicken stock, I suppose." Is the next utterance, in which Kiki nods before a dim flash of light heralds his teleportation into another level of the temple.

The Tiger that had arrived with Shaka then enters the chambers without pause for the companion it aided here; favoring to paw at a space across from the cot to lie and watch from. Slowly it lowers its regal head onto massive paws, burning eyes watching every move Mu makes. As of then, the pale creature was simply untucking Shaka's tangled hair from beneath him, rolling it out to be tendered to later. Moving from there, Mu began to pull apart the thread worn shambles of Shaka's clothes.

"Judging from this frock, he is a Buddhist monk from far away. Is he not?"

Mu asked of the tiger, but took its silence as assent.

"Ai, he surely will be angry but hopefully can forgive the steps taken to revive him. And if not, you conveniently shall be here to take the blame."

The Tiger grunts at Mu, rolling its eyes and instead focuses on the golden glow radiating from the tip of Mu's index finger. Curious as any cat when this one finger is used to cut cleanly down the length of the frock at Shaka's waist to his ankles. Pulling away all the cloth without any blood—the cut even, clean; and Shaka laid bare.

_"How pathetic these creatures are." _Says the tiger, looking dully upon the bruised and battered body. Mu is moved as well, and hovers a hand above a terrible sun burn over Shaka's chest. Not touching, he allows his eyes to spy the bruises along his legs from the harsh travel, to his worn blistered feet, and revealed a form so malnourished that his ribs could be seen.

"Indeed."

Mu stands and approaches the many shelves lining one wall and removes from it a quaint wooden box. Mu unties the swathes holding it shut—within are neatly rolled bandages wrapped in sturdy lotus leaves and a knife cased in a leather throng.

In select corners of the room and out of the way were plants particularly useful to Mu. The one they approached was a spry aloe plant, of which a long leaf close to the base was selected and cut gently close to the stalk. Mu brings the long slender remedy of a plant to their mouth and kisses its flat top, whispering softly into the thick skin apologies and thanks. Alongside the bandages the plant is laid and from the shelf is soon joined by a very small silver chalice. A bamboo cork stopper keeping it tightly sealed.

Kiki returns loyally and eyes the simple set up of remedies. Setting down his precariously balanced load on the ground beside the cot.

"Humans are not plates of metal for which to be hammered at and sprinkled with precious metals and dusts from the endless cosmos, Kiki. They are fragile, and their bodies so easily shocked."

Mu intones wisely, guessing at what Kiki was thinking. The boy blushes in embarrassment and scratches his chin.

"I'm sorry Master Mu, I'm just worried about him. That's all."

Mu's eyes shift from the pained face of the monk onto the apprentice, and a brief expression of adoration flits across the usually reserved mask. The look overjoys Kiki, who bounces high up into the air.

"I'll go cook now! Is there anything special you want added to the stock?"

"Nothing more than mugwort, Kiki. If Shaka is fighting off some internal infection that I have not detected yet—it would be best to withhold zinc and iron from his body else we help whatever may try and take root herein."

"Yes, Master!" And once again, Mu was left amongst the birds, the tiger, and Shaka.

Taking up a soft rag he dips it in the warm water and rings it out; Mu is gentle when cleansing Shaka's face. Softly patting mud and blood away until only a sun burnt face is left twisted with pain. A very unbecoming expression, Mu thinks when their hand wipes delicately along his neck and shoulders, cleaning gently the extensive burns.

The cloth was rinsed and ringed out dozens of times, and after Mu finished washing Shaka's tender chest and abdomen; the water was too dirty for further use. By now, Shaka's body heat had skyrocketed, and a small fever was working its way up. Mu eased Shaka's discomfort with a cold rag upon his head from the other bowl of water beside them; having had time to cool further. The rest of the monks' body was cleaned this way. A fresh, soft towel rubbing soft circles against his hips and thighs—turned inside out, refolded, dipped and pressed against Shaka's testis. As Mu bathed this area, no amount of soft fondling warranted a reaction. Shaka's body remained uninterested, the soft organ flaccid even when the foreskin was pulled back and cleaned out thoroughly.

"So weak and cold his body is… So little circulation."

Mu sighs to the tiger when taking up one last clean towel and washing Shaka's legs of grime. This was how Kiki came to him, a bowl steaming and an ivory spoon resting against the lip of the bowl. He sets it by the bed to cool; the tiger sniffs at the scent of chicken, but loses interest when catching a whiff of the bitter mugwort within.

"Kiki, leave that there momentarily and come help me."

Kiki bounds over and helps pull the bowl of water aside so Mu can sit cross legged with Shaka's legs hooked over their hips. Kiki helps cautiously push Shaka into a sitting position so that Mu may pull him to rest gently against their chest. Kiki dips and rings out the cloth for Mu and hands it to his master, while picking one up himself. Diligent and carefully Kiki rubs between Shaka's shoulder blades until the skin shines brightly through, but he's more cautious where the burns are worse. Mu is cleaning more gently at the cleft of his buttocks and lower back until the man is deemed reasonably clean.

"Now what, master?"

Kiki asks with intrigue as he disposes of the dirtied rags, including the one that had fallen to the floor when they had moved Shaka. The man now currently had his freshened face pressed into the crook of Mu's neck. His breath humid against the pallid flesh, and feather light.

"Sheets."

Mu speaks crisply, sounding slightly strained for some reason while Kiki laid down a fresh quilt for Shaka. Mu is cradling his head and neck gently when leaning forward to lay him down. Kiki lays a small cloth square over his hips to cover his nudeness; finding it only polite while Mu turns to the aloe leaf; cutting off the thorny sides and splitting it evenly—the gel within is scooped out and placed in generous dots along his shoulders. With nimble fingers, Mu gently spreads it along those burns.

"His back will just have to do without, for now…"

Mu tells the curious Kiki when the same ministrations are applied to his chest. The leaf all used up and thinly stretched.

"Kiki, will you apply the zheng gu shui while I wash up?"

Kiki takes the silver chalice and a swath of bandages, ripping a small square off from the cloth and staining it with the dark, potent smelling bruise medication. This he dabs along the various stages of bruising found on Shaka's body. The sensation if he'd been awake would have been cooling and soothing just like the pure aloe vera was, if but a tad itchy.

Mu came back with clean hands and lilac tresses scrapped back more severely from his face. The bowl of broth is picked up along their way before coming to kneel by Shaka. The spoon is warm where it rested in the soup—but wouldn't burn Shaka when touching his lips, just as the soup wouldn't burn when being ingested. But as Mu soon found out—that would hardly matter, as even the smallest spoonful could not go down Shaka's throat. No matter how Mu tipped his head, it leaks softly from his lips and the nutrients wasted. Mu's sigh was one of defeat when lifting the bowl to their own lips this time; holding the bitter broth in their mouth before leaning down to press their lips against Shaka's chapped tiers, Mu cupped his face so that their thumb could softly part Shaka's lips to trickle the broth in whilst the other hand massaged gently at his throat; facilitating swallowing until all the broth exchanged mouths and disappeared into Shaka.

Kiki was amazing when Mu pulled back, holding the back of their hand to their mouth to wipe excesses away.

"The monk is like a little baby bird."

Mu smiles in a rather amused fashion while taking up the bowl again for more broth, and Kiki stays to watch the way Mu tenderly coaxes Shaka into drinking it down. And by the time the bowl is mostly empty, Mu's lips are stained a soft pink along with their cheek bones, their eyelids heavily lidded as well. It was hard work to pour in so much devotion and patience for healing, not to mention the ki and cosmos Mu tried to gather around Shaka.

"We must watch over him carefully now, Kiki. For every hour is an hour he will spend fighting. Alongside him we must also fight, fight to keep him alive.."

* * *

Any and all reviews are welcome; most especially constructive criticism please. If you do not like the story-please don't bother telling me. I don't much care.

If you're confused, or have some questions; please ask me and I will definitely get back to you if you aren't anonymous.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed,

Daedric


	2. Chapter 2

Early morning heralded a glowing sun rise, which briefly warmed the usually chill surroundings. The white washed limestone temple was set ablaze with pink and orange for a few minutes, the conifers around were swayed with a breeze, and the animals around began to shake off dew from the nights still rest in the sparse forest. Frosty layers were scraped from pale antlers against peeling bark trees, and the din of wildlife was the clock to awaken the dissidents of the temple nearby.

Mu had been up long before the creatures of the forest, a sleepy owl their only company; perched upon their shoulder, its nails making pink dents in Mu's clothes—though they appeared not to notice or care. Mu was resting upon a cushion with their knees folded beneath, a large, shallow bowl (one of many) resting before them and mixed evenly with the ingredients chosen to be sprinkled within. Mu had spent a rather sleepless night (one of many with the new human guest) grinding many herbs in a mortar and pestle. The effort of mixing required many pitchers of the hot water—the evidence of those empty nearby; and the result of those efforts in the few shallow bowls at hand. Milky in color, as though grey clay rests on the bottom; in reality, the coloration came from a combination of coconut milk, burdock root oil, and chamomile tea leaves crushed and mixed with the hot springs water.

It has been many nights additional since Shaka had been brought here by the nameless tiger. Never once had Shaka awakened throughout, not even being fed like the baby bird Kiki thought him to be—nor when Mu washed or bandaged his body. Shaka slept on, defenseless but in safe and capable hands.

Mu slides a tall buckwheat hull pillow carefully beneath Shaka's head, balancing his neck delicately and raising his head from the floor. Mu makes sure to be comfortable before pulling a bowl close; the intention to finally wash Shaka's hair clear. They have to hold Shaka's head gently, but the hull beneath Shaka's neck helps hold up most of the weight while Mu's other hand cups water to pour it over his scalp. It's a soothing, gentle rinse to help his scalp and strengthen his hair. Mu makes sure his head is saturated before beginning to gently massage the essential herbs and oils of the water into his scalp. A faint sigh comes from Shaka, though not awake—is in a healthier state of consciousness now. His lips are parted to admit the pleased sounds. Mu smiles faintly before their eyes return back to the task at hand. Shaka's length of hair had once been thick and heavy—but now seemed thick and brittle from the sun and grime which had coated it. And with each pass of Mu's fingers through the sad strands, washing the vitamins through it; it seemed to glow and strengthen. The tresses were brilliant when dirt was washed from them. The further down Shaka's hair was washing, the dirtier the water in the bowl became, and thus Mu was glad to have prepared many rinses. Mu was also very skilled when working with hair so long—their own rivaling the length and thickness; untangling the knots and snarls were easy and Shaka remained undisturbed.

The third and last bowl of water was used for the finer bits of washing, such as when Mu finally picked up the smooth bone comb. The fine teeth combing through the ends of Shaka's hair fanned out in the water. This method helped brush out any other particles of blood or grime hidden in the fine strands. Mu worked his hair this way in the bowl of water left; letting Shaka's hair soak in it until finally Mu could comb easily from his bangs to the tips. The split ends something that could be trimmed away later—not entirely necessary to Shaka's healing. Gently gathering the beautiful gold out of the water, Mu rings it out as best he can before wrapping a towel around it and patting it dry.

The revealed rich gold was enviable, and Mu reveled in the early morning glow cast upon it when unraveling the towel. This was what the sleepy Kiki stumbled in upon, rubbing his eyes and staring in amazement.

"He's so pretty, master. More like a peacock instead of a baby bird…"

Mu's soft laughter is musical to Kiki's ears, like dozens of soft chimes ringing in a small breeze. The child smiles sleepily and ambles over to the two. Sitting down next to Mu and leaning softly into their side. Mu does not admonish the boy, nor move from the leech of affection. Just continues to brush Shaka's hair until they are satisfied and leaves Kiki to play with it shortly after.

"I will prepare for us something to break the fast with this morn. Two days of mugwort and stock will not do him well any longer I think. Wash up Kiki, I will be done by then."

The boy stands up, scratches his wild hair and yawns again.

"Where is the tiger, by the way?"

Mu pauses, looks over their shoulder briefly at their surroundings to note the absence. Having been so involved with Shaka, the lack of presence had gone unnoticed.

"I suspect to eat; surely it has been a few days since his last meal. He has to travel far after all for one. For those here will not allow him that opportunity.."

Kiki seems satisfied with this answer, giving one last look to the heavily sleeping man on Mu's bedrolls before fumbling sleepily away to gather his bathing supplies and clothes. Mu walks slowly after Kiki, but turns down a different corridor to a sort of cooking area. The sustenance he deigns good enough for Shaka is a very simplistic; a plain congee is made over the old wood fired stove. Dried salted pork is garnished over the top. Soft scallions and water chestnuts sweeten the rice.

Mu pours the rice porridge into three small saucers, and from his stores of spring water, three small cups of water to drink. The breakfast is small, but for they and Kiki—much sustenance was not required, they were strong where Shaka was not.

When making their way back to the room, Kiki had already returned—a cloth draped over his damp hair; the boy in question was still watching intently over the human. An act entirely amusing to Mu, who sets the tray by Kiki's side and hands the boy his saucer and porcelain spoon. Mu keeps their attention on the human while Kiki loses interest in favor of the porridge in his lap. Chewing on the salted pork and swallowing the warm rice down with it. Mu eats at a much slower pace, due most likely to the ponderings in their head. The bowl is half eaten, and still warm when Mu sets it aside, taking a drink of his own before thinking it time to take care of Shaka once again.

The first thing Mu does is lift Shaka's head carefully and press the lip of the cup to his mouth. The soft trickles of cool water slide into Shaka's dry mouth, whetting it before easing slowly down his throat. The fine brows on Shaka's forehead furrow in his deep sleep, but no other reaction comes thereafter. The motions of swallowing were far too weak for Mu to confidently spoon feed him. So he sighs and takes up the bowl made specifically for the human; the small spoonful they take into their mouth is warm, and Mu dutifully softens every bit before daring to lean over Shaka, tilt his head up and slowly feed it into him. His fingers once more work Shaka's throat to facilitate swallowing—and it slides down Shaka's gullet easily. A few minutes of waiting in silence assures the nutrients will not come back up or make him ill. So Mu sets back to work, compressing the soft congee in his mouth further before pressing their lips to the humans; noticing the tiers have become softer and plumper under Mu's brief care. Shaka swallows against Mu's mouth, and they pull away to notice that indeed color also has been slowly returning to the humans face. Color other than the angry red burns lacerating Shaka's body.

As Mu feeds him, they notice the smaller things about Shaka's recovery; such as the pliant fashion Shaka responds to Mu's lips. Opening though only a little, still receiving Mu and the vital nutrients they supplied. Almost eager, when Mu's breath caresses Shaka's mouth a last time—his lips open before there is ever any contact; giving Mu pause. Staring at the parted orifice, pink and slightly damp, warm and inviting Mu to feed him. Mu almost swallows the food in their mouth reflexively before finally able to lean in and pour in the last bits of food to Shaka, and some of their own warm cosmos as well.

When pulling away, Mu's face held a soft brush of red across their nose and cheeks bones. The dots upon Mu's brow seemed pinched. And when Mu turns to Kiki, feels a tad more embarrassed; especially at line of Kiki's raised brow, his lips pursed and a devilish look on his face.

"I believe Shaka is past the danger now, but still we shall watch him carefully.."

Mu intones, and a little guarded as well.

"Uh huh." Kiki sasses back, gathering quickly the used dishes before disappearing in a whirl of energy before he could get a reprimand from his master.

* * *

From dawn to dusk the remainder of that day was spent with silent chores. Those which Kiki would have to get used to when Mu 'retired'; as he nicely called it. Shaka never once woke up, even though the lessons were taught by his side—from Mu to Kiki. Shaka was the perfect patient as Mu taught Kiki how to harvest Aloe and apply it. That was to be the last little lesson of the day considering the setting of the sun and the chill setting over the temple. Mu's presence however released nothing but warmth throughout the room—no one would really feel the chill of the mountains.

"It would be best if we dressed him now though. His wounds will not stick and he is more susceptible to the cold than we."

Kiki agreed eagerly and went to fetch a fresh frock, the lecture on the difference between human and Muvian fresh in his mind. Infinite span of life separated them from humans, a higher resistance to illness and disease, a profound connection with all things that came from the universe. The universe power, called their cosmos at their command easier than at a humans; telepathy, telekinesis, empathy. But Mu's voice from this old lesson rings soft and cold in his head, '_And thus were we smitten down by the gods for our arrogance and sins, Kiki. So lofty had we become with our gifts from the gods that we defied them. After our ancestors made fools of themselves the gods sunk our continent as retribution and very few survived. This was all the story even my own master was able to tell me, for so long ago it was—not even he lived then and he was quite old upon his…death…'_

Kiki brings back a pale blue frock to Mu, who takes it and does not comment on the forlorn and far off look on the apprentices face. Together they enfolded Shaka within the robes, one shoulder left bare as he would be accustomed to, cinched at the waste by its own folds and extending to his ankles. It was thick and would keep him warm through the night, and as an extra precaution Mu tucked Kiki in at Shaka's side with an additional quilt—it surely must have been spun from the rams wool that Mu easily harvested from their companions.

Kiki watches his master trickle water from a narrow cup into Shaka's mouth—a small stream leaks from the corner of the man's lips—but most makes it down his throat without utterance of a cough or choke. Mu was terribly skilled and gentle in this delicate healing process. As Mu dabs at Shaka's chin to dry the water away, Kiki shuffles closer to share his heat—just slightly curled into the monks side so as not to harm him in any way. And when Mu is done, they pull aside the blanket to slide in on Shaka's other side—all three fitting on the cot and filling the space with the most soothing warmth. Mu unties the ribbon which keeps their thick locks of hair from spilling everywhere while working. It shimmers brightly under the pillars of pale silver moonlight pooling into the room. Tucked out of harm's way, Mu lays on their side next to Shaka—their chest against his shoulder, Mu's warm feet pressed to Shaka's cold ones—rubbing softly and warming him. The sound is miniscule, but under Mu's scrutiny and trained eyes; they see Shaka's lips part and they hear a soft gasp.

Mu shuts their eyes but their pale lips are curved in a gentle smile; amused at the reaction that wrought from someone unconscious.

_'__Are you truly so depraved and utterly alone that unconscious contact frightens you?'_

Mu ponders, for even in their self-imposed hermit lifestyle physical contact was not so startling. However, Mu's regards to it versus a monks would be wholly different…

_'__Interesting…' _

Was the last thought before Mu allowed themselves to drift into a very light, sleep like trance. Mu was expecting a disturbance, for almost a week Shaka had been at the mercy of the gods with an unresponsive body. Mu and Kiki had been pouring nutrients into him, medicine, liquids—it was only a matter of time before Shaka's body began to function properly again; to start processing these essentials into fuel, and it was only a matter of time before Shaka's body had to expel what was used up, or unusable.

That disturbance came late in the night, when the mountains were at its coldest. Mu snapped to alert consciousness the moment they felt Shaka's own creeping back to the world. Intently Mu listens to Shaka exiting his circadian cycle, very carefully scooting further back from the man who surely would be startled and disoriented. Shaka's eyes slowly open, the brilliant blue orbs glassy and almost unseeing when staring up at the high ceiling. Mu watches silently from his side, amused at the way Shaka must rapidly blink away the haze, his brow furrowing as he tries to remember what has happened to him, where he is… Shaka's head turns, and he catches sight of Mu—his eyes widen and Mu is struck speechless by this humans gaze. Such power was contained behind those lids! Mu was rendered immobile, they felt their presence diminish within Shaka's eyes—and that was when Mu knew this man was capable of unimaginable potential and power. But something had stunted him and that must be why the tiger had felt compelled to bring him here; Mu knew they had to help him, they felt the pull as well.

Mu let out a burst of their cosmos, wrapping Shaka in its warmth and wringing another gasp from his mouth. Mu licks his lips anxiously when Shaka begins to shudder and pant within the hold of the will which pinned him. Mu sensed the movement of Shaka's organs.

"The chamber pot lies behind me, on the far side of the room. Just before the balcony."

Mu whispers, the intention was to sound strong—but that was not how it came out. Shaka is wary of Mu, but the urge to urinate is what breaks his mistrust. However, Shaka hasn't the strength to move, let alone get up. Mu could not bear to watch him struggle any longer—and thus sits up and brings Shaka with them. The man is stiff in Mu's strong arms, and it is obvious to see that he does not want such bodily contact. Mu gives him no choice, swinging Shaka's legs off the side of the cot and pulling an arm over their shoulder. Mu holds up easily most of Shaka's weight—and the arm around Shaka's waist is unsettling and does not allow Shaka to pull away from Mu's body.

"I can do it alone.." Shaka forces passed clenched teeth, but in truth his legs are trembling and would surely give way if Mu released him.

"Nonsense."

Mu would hear none of it, and quickly shushed him and ushered him (slowly of course) to the pot, it was left open and empty, and the light of the moon was on it so one would not miss. They stand there, with Shaka panting, and Mu watching him before Mu realizes that Shaka can hardly hold himself upright. Mu suffers a heated flush before shifting their position directly behind Shaka. A sense of dread overcomes the monk as shivers race up and down his spine at his tightening bladder; Shaka's teeth clench just as his thighs do while stiffening against Mu's chest. There are fingers prodding along his hips, Mu's fingers navigating the folds of the frock until deft fingers finally pulls apart the fabric to bare Shaka's thighs and entire groin to the air.

"Your aid is unnecessary."

Shaka bites out, grabbing Mu's wrist with a rather weak grip, he gasps when the warm hand slides along the flaccid penis. Shaka quakes when Mu takes such a firm hold of the organs base and lifts. Mu's breath is hot and even against Shaka's neck—the skin red with Shaka's humiliated blush.

"Release me you imprudent cu—er.."

Shaka trails off in a surprised hiss when Mu slides their other hand up to Shaka's lower belly.

"Do not be foolish, you can hardly stand—I will not have a mess on my floors. Relax now Shaka, you are in safe hands."

And then Mu gradually presses on Shaka's stomach—the pressure direct on his bladder.

"No…" Shaka wheezes in humiliation when finally he sags against Mu completely and his bladder gives out. Shivers wrack Shaka, the stream relieving immense pressure on him—a pleasing sensation that makes Shaka sigh. His head falls back on Mu's shoulder and Shaka can glimpse a slight smile on Mu's handsome face.

"Shh, good—relax…" Mu further eases Shaka who loosens his grip on Mu's arms.

Mu examines the thin arc, displeased at such a deep golden coloration. Shaka was still dehydrated and malnourished. With one more sigh the stream comes to end, Mu shakes the organ gently and dabs the head with a spare kerchief before tucking the penis back into the robes and tying it shut. Shaka's eyes are closed in their weak resignation, his body unmoving against Mu's chest with their strong arms locked around his body. Mu wisely concludes Shaka's shocked state of mind—and gently tips Shaka back to scoop up his legs from behind his knees and an arm behind his shoulders. Shaka does not respond—but Mu knows he is awake. And silence reigns as Mu carries Shaka back to the bed, Kiki sleeping like the dead on its far side. Mu tucks Shaka back into the quilts and pretends not to notice the humiliation upon the man's brow.

As Shaka is working himself into a light sleep, Kiki inching closer in his sleep to cling to his arm; Mu is standing in front of a short column, their hands in the cool water of a glass bowl where honeysuckle blooms floated about. While washing, a musky scent fills the room that Mu easily picks up and turning a look over their shoulder see's the tiger sitting at the room entrance.

"It is good to have you back, friend."

Mu's voice is low and quiet in the room. The tiger dips its head, but its reflective eyes never leave Mu.

"I suppose since Shaka is out of danger for the time being, you wish to consult me on a matter of your own?"

Mu pulls out their hands and dries them on a soft cloth hanging from the lip of the bowl. Then Mu turns around, walking directly up to the tiger and sliding their hands along the thick fur of its forehead and cheeks. Lifting by hands beneath a powerful jaw to continue looking into its eyes more deeply.

"You had no intention of coming with a guest, having run across the dying man in your journey; or something like that, yes?"

The tiger was thoroughly enjoying the way Mu began scratching its chin and soon finding a pleasant space behind its ears which made them swivel and the tiger pleasantly '_purr'. _

_ "__A correct deduction, Mu."_

"Hmm yes, I am not all seeing however so you will have to tell me your entire story."

The tiger lets out a yawn and pulls itself from Mu's pleasant handiwork; it goes to the bed of furs Mu had left out days ago in anticipation of its return. Mu follows behind, and when the tiger beds down Mu sits down with it against its side. The tiger curls around in such a way that its heavy head can rest on Mu's thigh.

"_I began my trek from an ancient valley in China, following the idle gossip of birds and fickle squirrels to find you. I found myself many moons ago in the company of an enchantress, but I was unknowing of it. I must have angered her, though she did not appear so; for she set a curse upon me. And once a man, here I lay as a beast in your lap; having forgotten for decades who I used to be, and all those that were around me. I had been wandering in desolation, destroying poachers and slender deer until I heard whisper of your name."_

Mu's eyes were closed when listening to the tale, shortened but relevant. Necessary details were present, and Mu listened without interrupting and merely continued to stroke the tiger's cheeks and velvet muzzle.

"I understand," Mu tells it when the pause lingers to herald the story's end, "your memory is broken by this curse laid upon you. And here in this sanctuary the fog may lift slowly. It could be that slowly uncovering your memory may help to lift the spell that has transformed you. Through meditation and divination perhaps can give us some clues. Rest here, and think. When I have time I will search my libraries for likely clues and tips. Does this satisfy you, my friend?"

_"__Much so. Those animals I heard were right in what they say of you. Very fae and otherworldly, your presence is calming and your brim with unbridled intellect."_

Mu laughs lightly at the flattery the tiger washes them over with, smiling in such a joyous way that made the tiger hum with a pleased purr.

"Perhaps I am a decent learner, for my master was far wiser than I. I suppose I should say I had a wonderful teacher."

Mu gets up and leaves the tigers warm side to go to Shaka's. Who slept with a creased brow—Mu is too busy soothing their hand over Shaka's forehead to erase the frown from his face to notice the way the tiger had paused. Whiskers twitching as it tries desperately to recall a memory in full.

The tiger lays its head on folded paws and watches Mu slide into the blankets beside Shaka and envelop the human with much needed warmth. There was something familiar in the sway of Mu's lilac hair, the way it lay thick and lush over the sheets and few locks spilled haphazardly over the edge. The calming way in which Mu laughed, the _medicine_, the _magic_. The tiger looks around the palace of wilderness, thinking that it reminded him much of the ruins he had awoken in.

* * *

_All was dark but where a man with thick waves of blonde sat, he was leaning back on his hands and his lean legs stretched out. He was laughing at the companion sitting across from him; who had an arm folded in a hard cast and wrapped in a sling across his chest. _

_ "__How many times must I tell you, I needn't your assistance when dealing with hoodlums."_

_This man's voice was deep and calming, the note of amusement seemed only to ruffle his companion. The masculinity coming off the long haired blonde in waves, the robes he wore flowed into pools around him but where it parted left free the leather armor bound legs. _

_Seeing from another's eyes, the tiger watched as the blonde came closer with eyes glowing almost red in the dim light of sunlight to lay a kiss on his brow. Realizing with a start that in this dream, the tiger was this powerful man's companion, but he lacked the ability to speak freely in his dream. _

_ "__I can't help it. The minute I heard them plotting to hurt you just because you're not like us; I had to do something."_

_The tiger was unable to see the body he was in, but knew it to be human when catching glimpses of himself. Muscled, tanned, apparently a bit reckless—at least in this case he had been._

_ "__It is in your blood. You were born to protect, truly I am flattered! But I am not a lamb, you hot blooded tiger! You should not lose all abandon because some harmless humans dislike me."_

_Their entire surroundings seemed a dark shade of grey, almost black. The tiger could barely make out the stone walls around them. But the light was centered on the blonde coming to stand; tall and broad shouldered with a calming benevolent face. _

_ "__Good thing I am so versed in medicine, else you would be in that cast for many months rather than mere days."_

_ "__I'm the guardian and Roshi of this area, regardless of if anyone requests my help I will always protect anyone from impure intentions."_

_The man was gloriously pleased by his companion's outburst, his face showing how proud he was._

_ "__Ai my friend, those words bring cheer to my heart. Do not forget them!"_

_It appeared the blond was making to leave, and the tiger made no move to stop him. But deep inside this dream-counterparts chest could the tiger feel a sinking fear. It was growing at a sickening rate when watching the tall man walk towards a doorway filled with light; illuminating the man into a black silhouette. Wanting nothing more than to shout, to scream for him not to leave…_

The tiger awoke with a threatening growl; fortunately quiet enough that none of the occupants of the room heard it. By his head lay a smoked salmon, whole and warm. A fondness sweeping over the tiger when turning its gaze onto the bed where Shaka was currently propped up by Mu's tireless arm, being fed warm beans and rice. Kiki dutifully watching at Shaka's side and listening to whatever it was Mu was telling him. Now and again, Shaka would allow the child to tip water into his mouth. Each sip small, each bite even smaller; but he was doing it alone, and that alone lit gladness onto Mu's face. It glowed with brilliant light of sun leaking into the temple, as well as with the relief.

The tiger sunk a claw into the salmon and pulled it close, peeling off soft skin and meat from its belly. Mu cast a look over at the sound, their face holding all the relief at the progress made on the human. The tiger decided as it swallowed the head of the fish; its dream could wait until later. Shaka needed to be taken care of, for he had lived long as a tiger and a little longer would not kill him.


End file.
